


What the Hell Happened Last Night?

by kaitlia777



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Crack, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/pseuds/kaitlia777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up the morning after can be crazy for anyone, but when you’re a Loser…yeah, some shit went down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Hell Happened Last Night?

When Jake Jensen awoke at… hell, he had no fucking idea what time it was and he was fairly certain something had died in his mouth. Also, his throat felt like he’d given head to a cactus.

Shifting, he felt something wet slosh against his skin as what ever he was resting on moved beneath his weight. Fighting back the urge to vomit (he didn’t even want to imagine how badly that would’ve hurt), Jensen cracked open one eyelid to take a look at his surroundings.

Huh.

He appeared to be in a bathroom… more specifically, on a small raft, floating in a bathtub. A bathtub filled with…yup, filled with beer. Taking stock of himself, he noted the fact that, for some odd reason, he seemed to have beard burns on his inner thighs and a bruise on his cock the size of a golf ball.

THE HELL?!

Calling upon all the physical skills and coordination he’d learned during his years as Special Ops soldier, Jenson managed to heave himself out of the tub and onto the floor. To his delight, his cheek landed on his pink ‘HERE KITTY, KITTY,KITTY!’ boxers. At least he had something to put on.

When he marshaled his strength, he tugged the shorts on. Something pinched his tender parts and, after a brief investigation, he fished a retainer from his boxers.

Oh, what the fuck?!

He staggered to the sink, blinking blearily at his reflection, then removing the dazzling tiara from his head and setting it gently on the countertop. Turning on the tap, he splashed water on his face, wondering where all the glitter had come from and ignoring the chicken wings, sequins, condom wrappers and hamster, which is wearing a sign that read ‘Feed Me Bitch’ that were resting in the basin.

As he gathered his thoughts, he flashes of images, maybe muddled memory is of the night before. Leather chaps, guacamole, a jump rope, spray cheese, a Bedazzler, many disco balls, a conversation with a unicorn …girls something powdered laundry detergent on themselves so their skin would glow in the black light.

Some things, he really didn’t want to think about, others he wished the memories are far sharper.

Knowing he had to leave the bathroom and figure out where the fuck he was, Jensen took a deep breath and gripped the door handle. He stepped out and came eye to bloodshot eye with a hot, topless redhead.

“Oh, hey,” she commented, very blasé as she tugged on a tank top that complemented her hot pants. “Want some pancakes?”

Jensen stared at her. “Sure,” he agreed, then peered around the room. He didn’t see any of his clothes but did take note of the rocking horse and disassembled Christmas tree. “Any idea where I might find my clothes?”

She shook her head. “Sorry… but I think I saw a pair of men’s pants hanging on the chandelier downstairs.”

Shrugging, Jensen said, “Lead the way.”

She did, looking back at him over her shoulder and offering, “I’m Mika.”

“Jake,” he said, following her out of the room, along the hall and down a flight of stairs. “Ummm, I know this is gonna sound weird, but… where am I? I have no idea how I got here.”

Mika grinned. “Theta Nu Alpha sorority house. UNH. We had a party last night. Big, big party.”

“Looks like it,” he commented, around the mostly trashed first-floor. Several nubile young women smiled and waved at him as they went about straightening up. Someone dressed in a chicken costume was passed out by the coat rack, clutching about four dozen eggs to their feathered chest.

His guide paused and considered the sleeping chicken. “She wanted all her babies back with her,” Mika said, gesturing to the eggs. “We totally have to find out what she was on.”

More tank top and booty shorts clad girls wandered in and out and one of them used a broom to hook the jeans off of the chandelier. “Yours?” she asked, holding them out to him.

Jensen took the pants and noted happily that they were, in fact, his pants. “Thanks,” he said, tugging them on and taking inventory of his pockets. His cell phone was still there, thank God, and there were several napkins with names and numbers scrawled on them. Katie, Beka, Shannon, Brian….

A T-shirt, plain and blue, appeared in front of his face. Shoving the phone and napkins back into his pockets, he gratefully accepted the shirt from Mika. It wasn’t his, smelled vaguely like a cheeseburger and fit him as though it had been spray-painted on, but it was better than nothing.

More scantily clad girls were in the kitchen. For a moment, Jensen contemplated calling his teammates, with whom he had been barhopping… at least, that was his last clear memory. Finding out what had happened was probably fairly important.

Around him, the girls were discussing the party and making plans for the next weekend.

“Dude, next party, I say we need some strippers!”

“Fuck that! I’m ordering a moon bounce!”

“Epic!”

All thoughts of calling the others fled Jensen’s mind as one of the pretty girls plopped a trough sized cup of coffee and a tower of pancakes before him. Finding out what happened could wait, at least until after breakfast.

* * *

“Is Mr. Pooch dead?”

“No, sweetie, not yet.”

Those two sentences were the first thing Pooch heard as awareness crept up on him. From Jolene’s tone, he knew he was about to catch some major hell. He tried to stay still, to pretend he was still asleep, but he couldn’t help but let out a pained groan.

Damn.

“Go play, Jesse. I need to talk to my husband.”

He heard little feet go padding out of the room and the door creaked closed. Knowing it was better if he just faced the music, Pooch managed to open one eye and peered up at his wife.

Who appeared to be standing on the ceiling.

No… wait, he’s had was hanging upside down off the edge of the bed. That was it.

“Morning, dear,” he tried to say, but what came out of his mouth was, “Morgdurrch…”

Jolene crossed her arms and stared down at him. “Fool. What did you do?”

“What did I drink?” he managed to gasp, rolling over so he didn’t have to face the dizzying sight of his seemingly upside down wife.

“What didn’t you drink?” she asked wryly. “You’re the only one who actually made it home and you staggered in at about 5:30 AM, covered in oatmeal, wearing a tutu with a rotting pumpkin in your arms and Happy Birthday Morty balloons tied to your neck. And he was singing songs from High School Musical soundtrack.”

Shit.

The team had chosen to vacation in New Hampshire specifically because they thought the more rural setting would limit their drunken shenanigans. Apparently that plan had worked.

As he tried to gather his thoughts, Julian continued, “Jackie and I try to use the stains on your clothes to piece together what happened, but it got too disgusting. Honestly, talk about an example of exactly why not to drink.”

Unable to lift his head from the bed, Pooch tried to think back on the previous night and found very few clear memories. “Aisha slapped a vegan in the face with a raw steak,” he mumbled. “And we may have done something stupid with watermelons… I think cops were involved. A horse told me not to drive home last night.”

With that, he pressed his face back to bed and heard his wife howling with laughter. “You’re an idiot, but I love you,” Jolene said and which side when she pulled the blanket over his head and left the room.

He’d figure out what happened when his brain started working again.

* * *

The gentle rocking woke Aisha with a start. Her eyes popped open, something she immediately regretted. Bright sunlight blinded her and she quickly covered her eyes with her hands.

Her oddly soft, felt clad hands.

Carefully, she pulled her hand back to peer at the fabric. Dark brown, furry, with mittens that looked like paws.

What the fuck?

Glancing around, she realized people were staring at her. Not something she was particularly fond of.

“What?” she snapped, causing several of the gawkers to look away.

One brave young woman continued to stare and said, “You do realize you’re wearing a bear costume, right?”

A bear costume. Someone had some explaining to do.

Aisha glanced out the window, realizing she was on a bus. She hadn’t been on the bus last night… at least, not that she could recall.

“Where am I?” she asked the woman who had informed her of her current state of dress.

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Good night, huh? You’re on a bus in Providence.”

“Providence…New Hampshire?”

“Rhode Island,” the girl replied with a whistle. “You’re like a living, breathing D.A.R.E. campaign, ain’t ya?”

Aisha tried to glare, but couldn’t muster up the energy. Instead, she patted her bear costume, hoping the damn thing had a pocket somewhere that held her phone and wallet.

She had to get back to New Hampshire and probably kick Jensen’s ass.

Life is much easier if one just assumed this sort of shit was his fault.

* * *

Mother-Rat-Fucking-Shit.

That was the first coherent thought to pass to Clay’s mind as he awoke to the incessant bleating of a heart monitor. He tried to blink, but his eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper and clearing his throat made him wonder if he’d actually tried to swallow glass.

Rolling to the side, he coughed for a good five minutes, bringing up phlegm and God only knew what else. Finally finished, he pleaded for a merciful death.

No such luck.

A bubbly, young nurse wandered into the room and greeted him with a perky, “Good morning, Mr. Ford. How are we feeling today?”

Ford?

What the… why was he in a hospital…wearing a wristband containing the information from one of his fake ID’s?

“What the Hell happened last night?” he finally managed to gasp, causing the nurse to give him a look of pity.

“Some some of the staff found you passed out in the ambulance bay. You were wearing attack cost him, had a shrimp fork embedded in your forehead and, upon examination, we discovered that your… genital region had been painted bright green. Also, you had your stomach pumped and we’ve got you on fluids. Must have been some night,” she informed him, patting his arm consolingly.

“Damn,” Clay muttered. “Sounds like the sort of party I wish I remembered.”

The nurse laughed faintly, then asked, “Is there anything I can do for you? Anyone I can call? We tried to check your phone, which was duct taped to your rear end, but it was password locked.”

Clay thought about this. “Get me my phone and I’ll call someone,” he mumbled, then continued, “But first, I need a bathroom.”

Without breaking stride, the nurse held out one of those plastic, made-for-men bedpan things. “You okay on your own what shall I help?”

Clay groaned and raised a leaden to cover his eyes.

He hoped someone on his team had some idea of what they had gotten up to last night.

Then again, considering the carrot costume and painted body parts, maybe he was better off not knowing.

* * *

Forget waterboarding, sensory deprivation and good old-fashioned beatings, real torture came in the form of fluorescent lighting and muzak. That was true Hell.

Shifting, Cougar felt the surface to meet him give and there was a soft rustling sound that he could almost identify, but not quite. With a groan, he opened one eye and was startled to find himself staring at something covered in a garish lime green and eggplant spotted fabric.

It took them several moments to realize he just woken up to find himself in the beanbag been at a Wal-Mart. He knew it was a Wal-Mart because he could see one of those smiley face signs on the wall.

What the hell was he doing in a Wal-Mart?

Carefully, he crawled out of the pile of bean bags and stumbled out into a mostly deserted aisle. A small boy, about six or seven, gave him an appraising look and said, “Cool pirate hat!”

Reaching up, Cougar pulled the hat off of his head and looked at it. It was indeed a pirate hat and, before he could wonder about the fate of his own hat, he recalled leaving it at Jackie’s before heading out the night before. He’d gone out drinking with his team mates often enough to know the morning after was usually like some insane version of Clue.

Who did what where with whom?

Where are my pants?

Why am I waking up in a pool, on a dolphin floaty, wearing only a party hat?

Yeah, they’d had some interesting times.

And he’d woken up in weirder places than a bean bag bin, which had actually been fairly comfortable. Not like the time he’d woken up to discover Jensen and Roque giggling as they wrapped him in a string of Christmas lights. He hadn’t known what was stranger, the fact that they had found working holiday decorations in the middle of New Guinea, or the fact that Roque was giggling.

‘Cause that, in Jensen’s words, was some messed up shit.

Nodding to the child, Cougar attempted to walk towards the front of the store with some dignity. He felt he managed fairly well, as he stopped listing to the right after about 30 paces.

Fortified with a cup of coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts at the front of the store, he made his way outside and looked around. Most of the license plates in the parking lot were from the Granite State, so he was fairly certain he was still in New Hampshire.

That was good. One time they had started drinking in Berlin and the next clear memory he had was waking up in a tree in Madagascar.

After that time, he knew he could find his way back from anywhere.

* * *

“Why do I have 37 texts from last night? All about bacon?”

“Does anyone else know why my knuckles are bruised and broken and an M. shaped dent on my forehead?”

“How the hell did I end up with a black eye and a sweatshirt that says ‘Someone Special calls me Grandpa’? That’s not even mentioning the bear suit.”

“I feel like a Thai whore the morning after the Navy leaves.”

“Where’s my hat?”

After staggering in at various hours throughout the day, most of the team had napped until they felt at least somewhat human. Then, after sending Jess to a neighbors for a play date, Jackie and Jolene gathered everyone together in the living room to begin the show.

‘Cause watching these five lunatics try to figure out exactly what kind of bat-shit crazy they’d gotten up to was always worth a laugh. And being that they were far saner than the team, if common sense was needed they could provide a rational opinion.

For the moment however, the two women were content to sit back and watch as the Losers tried to piece together the previous night. After the Thai whore comment even Aisha scooted a little further away from Clay.

“Okay,” Pooch said, taking the lead, as Clay was clearly still somewhat incapacitated. “So we left here at about 1930 hours last night. First stop was that Irish pub in town. Do we all remember that?”

There were nods all around and Jensen picked up the narration. “Then we walked over to that club, the one with the neon palm tree out front. Aisha, I think someone might have put something your drink, ’cause you were already acting nuts. You got the black eye from a 12-year-old girl in a vampire costume, who punched you in the face after you screamed ‘Team Jacob!’ at her and howled at the moon.”

Aisha touched her bruised cheek and said, “Well, at least that explains that.”

“After the club, we walked to McDonald’s. Drive through wouldn’t serve us. Jensen tried to convince them we were on mini motorcycles, too small to set off weight sensors. Pooch made some convincing noises but no luck. Then he tried to climb through the drive-through window. The cashier didn’t like that, slammed the window on his hands and beat him in the face with her headset thing.” For Cougar, this was a speech of epic proportions. Normally, he would have let one of the others talk, but when memories were spotty sometimes they had to fill in the gaps.

Jackie and Jolene both burst into laughter as Pooch drawled out, “Shhhiiittt.”

From his spot on the couch, where he was still playing with his phone, Jensen began giggling and turn the screen around to face the others. “I got it all on camera! This is some YouTube worthy action right here, my friend!”

While most of the team was still too ragged to be excited over the potential humiliation of one of their own , Jolene pounced on the phone, watching her husband’s drunken antics with glee. “See this is why I don’t object to these nights out, even though I know it’s going to end up like some sort of a sick combination of The Hangover and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. You can’t buy anything that would compare this sort of memory.”

“I don’t remember it,” Pooch mumbled, causing Jolene to snicker.

“That’s okay, sweetie. We have video proof!”

“The last time they were here,” Jackie put in, grinning broadly at her little brother, “they spent two hours narrating the dog’s thoughts. After about 10 minutes, I broke out the camcorder.”

Jolene gave the blonde woman big smile. “We’re watching that later.”

Retrieving his phone, Jensen said, “Things start to get a little fuzzy at that. Where did you all wake up?”

“Here.”

“A bus in Rhode Island.”

“Hospital.”

“Wal-Mart.”

“And I was at a sorority house,” Jensen concluded, still flipping through his phone. “Nothing else on here from last night… except, I apparently spent some time trying to buy an elephant, Googled ‘how to put out a fire started using KY Jelly’ and bought a blowtorch online.”

That was an odd assortment of activities, both online and real-world, even for Jake Jensen. Everyone simply blinked at him for a moment, before Aisha asked, “What goes on in that scary place you call your brain?”

He scowled at her. “Oh, like you have complete control over all your drunken actions. At least I didn’t somehow wander out of the state.”

“I was drunk!”

“Join the club.”

“Moving on,” Pooch tried to get the discussion back on track. Jolene didn’t know why he bothered. They were all still clearly feeling the effects of the night before. That was not the best state in which to attempt to reconstruct the timeline in an efficient manner.

“Does anyone have any clue why my dick is painted green?” Clay randomly asked, causing everyone to freeze and slowly turn to stare at him. “What? Someone painted it green and I have no idea how it happened.”

“Maybe that’s one of those things you don’t want to know,” Jackie commented, but couldn’t help herself from continuing. “Are you sure it’s paint? ‘Cause if that Thai whore comment was in any way accurate, it could be some kind of nasty, creepy crawly STD!”

And yes ladies and gentlemen, Jackie Jensen was her brother’s sister. Though she managed to edit herself a bit better than her brother, the smartass gene clearly ran in their family.

“But does anybody have an expiration for the weird costumes?” Jensen asked, eyeing the sad looking, empty bear and carrot outfits propped up against the wall. “’Cause I really, really need to know story behind them!”

* * *

 

“Oh, dear God, the costumes,” Pooch moaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I figure we had to have picked them up at that outdoor costume party in the woods between the college and the bus stop.”

“That’s right!” Jensen crowed happily, then clearly regretted his volume as everyone in the room, save Jolene and Jackie, winced sharply. “Why the heck did I end up with a tiara?”

“Suck it up man, I had on a freaking tutu,” Pooch said with a grin. “We must’ve gotten separated at the party.”

“But why would I end up on a bus to Rhode Island? I’ve never been to Rhode Island. Never wanted to go to Rhode Island,” Aisha declared. “Have any of you ever been to that state intentionally? At least I had my wallet and could rent a car to drive back up here, but the GPS said the trip would be about four hours long… try seven! It’s impossible to get out of that state. Smallest state in the nation or not, I’m shocked it doesn’t have the largest population simply because, once you’re in there you can never leave.”

While Jolene chuckled over Aisha’s clear frustration, Jackie nodded in complete agreement. “I know!” she exclaimed, waving a hand expressively. “It’s as bad as Boston was during the Big Dig construction!”

Jensen raised eyebrow when his sister’s direction. “No offense, Sis, but you lost at Settler’s Green the last time we went up to Conway.”

Jackie tossed a small throw pillow in her brother’s direction, while the others exchanged confused looks. Clearly, this is something that required knowledge of the area to understand.

“Okay, so we know where things got crazy for Aisha, but not how,” Julian commented, then looked around at the others. “How about the rest of you?”

“I think,” Cougar began, closing his eyes as if that would help bring distant memories to the forefront of his mind, “I hitched a ride to Wal-Mart to pick up some beer and kettle corn. I don‘t want to know why there‘s glitter in my mouth.”

“And that’s two down,” Jolene said, “And three, ‘cause we know my dear husband managed to find his way back here.”

“Now,” Jackie said, pointing a finger at her brother. “Sorority house?”

Jensen grinned. “Okay, well, according to Nikki, the girl who made me pancakes this morning, said they found me swimming in one of the fountains and invited me back to the party.”  
“So, I end up in the hospital and he ends up with co-eds cooking him breakfast. How the hell is that fair?” Clay demanded grumpily. “And we still don’t know who dumped me in the ambulance bay.”

“Probably just some college kids who didn’t want the party to end, but didn’t want to deal with a dead guy at the party,” Jensen said with a shrug, clearly pleased that for once he hadn’t gotten the short end of the stick. “’Cause that’d kill the buzz.”

Sarcastically, Clay said, “Yes, how awful for them.”

“Can we go to bed now?” Pooch asked, causing Jolene to snort.

“Don’t think so,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Your son should be up from his nap soon and Jackie and I are going shopping. You’re on daddy duty.”

Pooch cast his gaze at his team mates, only to catch the door swing closed in their wake.

Apparently, no one wanted to deal with a baby in their still hung over states. Wimps.

* * *

As they had made their escape the only way possible, through the front door, Clay, Aisha, Jensen and Cougar found themselves standing outside Jackie’s house with no ambition or desire to go anywhere. Exchanging looks, they took the only reasonable courses of action.

Clay and Aisha wandered off towards the shaded hammock while Cougar and Jensen scaled the side of the house and crawled into Jensen’s room ( which they were sharing) through the open window.

Collapsing onto his bed with him, Jensen sighed with relief, then groaned. From where he had dropped face first onto the mattress, Cougar gave a grunt of inquiry, which Jensen correctly interpreted and replied, “I just realized I’m getting glitter and God knows what else all over the comforter.”

Cougar made a noise of agreement, then shifted to reach under himself to tug something out of his pocket. Curiously, he peered at the bottle of Chloraseptic throat spray.

Jensen peered at it and held out his hand. “Gimme, gimme,” he demanded and Cougar dropped the bottle into the hackers outstretched palm. In seconds, the cap was off and Jensen was liberally spraying his throat with the numbing concoction. “Thanks,” he murmured. “My throat feels like I tried to deep throat an elephant. Why’d you have that, anyway?”

With a shrug, Cougar cast an eye up and down Jensen’s frame before commenting, “I don’t see any glitter.”

The hacker snorted. “Oh, it’s there, believe me. I just didn’t feel the need to announce the weirder results of our night of debauchery in front of my sister.”

Again, Cougar made a nonverbal inquiry and Jenson continued, “Well, let’s start with the beard burn on my thighs, move on to the glitter covered crotch and finally the nasty bruise on my cock. No way was I to bring up that down there. It was weird enough with Clay talking about his green wang doodle.”

“We shouldn’t mix tequila, vodka, scotch and beer next time,” Cougar commented dryly, putting a few little facts together in his mind and seriously wishing he could remember exactly what had gone down.

Jensen flopped around for a moment, finding comfortable position before he mumbled, “We say that every time, my friend. And every time we forget. Now personally, I would like to know some of what went on, but really do we need the emotional and psychological scarring that would go a long with knowing how and why Clay has a green dick. I mean, he says it’s paint, but you know how lacking his judgment is when it comes to women. Maybe it’s some insane, exotic STD…If it is Aisha will probably cut it off….”

He trailed off and Cougar realized the younger man had nodded off in mid-sentence. With a sigh, he grabbed the loose edge of a throw and pulled it over the two of them. Whatever had or hadn’t happened could be figured out or not at a later date.

For now, they had hangovers to sleep off before Jess got home and bribed Jensen awake with the promise of Pixie Stix and chocolate covered espresso beans.

When that happened, no one would be sleeping…probably not for a long, long time.


End file.
